And Now, the Rest of Mom's Story

My mom. The gift that keeps on giving. And I'm not talking about her five dollars here and ten dollars there. When we last convened, Mom told me a story of her friend Freda leaving a card in her newspaper box yesterday. A card that was mysteriously absent when Mom went up to the road to get her paper. Just to fill you in on a pertinent detail to which you were not privy previously, the card was a sympathy card in response to the passing and subsequent funeral of Mom's brother.

I called Mom this evening, and offhandedly asked, "So, did you get your card today?" Because, you see, we thought the Newspaper Lady might have noticed that the card was not addressed to her, and would put in back in the box today.

"Oh, yes! You've got to hear this!" Yes. I did. But first I silenced Mom while I watched the forecast. A ten-dollar daughter can get away with that, you know. Mom doesn't mind listening to me breathe for five minutes before resuming our conversation.

"What was that, Mom? The weather is over. You might not want to get out for church tomorrow morning. So you got your card? I bet that was a relief. I guess she saw that it was addressed to you."

"NO! I said I got a card. But it wasn't that card! It was a THANK YOU CARD! And it was addressed to Freda! Here. I'll read it to you: 'Dear Freda: Thank you so much for your kind and thoughtful card. Thank you for thinking of me. I appreciate your kindness. Not many like you out here. God bless. Newspaper Lady. P.S. You made my day.' Not only did Newspaper Lady take my card, she thought it was for her! And she sent back a thank you note!"

"That is too funny. I can't believe the stuff you get into. Did you find out if the card was addressed on the envelope?"

"Yes. I saw Newspaper Lady leave my paper this morning around 8:00. It comes early on the weekend. I went up and got it, and saw that card stuffed down in the plastic wrapper. I couldn't believe what I read. Then I had to wait to call Freda. She says she doesn't answer her phone until 9:00. So as soon as it was 9:00, I called and read her that card. She said that she will never leave anything in that box again! That my card had my name on the outside of the envelope. She said she had a mind to call Newspaper Lady and tell her that the card was MINE, and she had no business taking it. I wouldn't be surprised if Freda calls the newspaper office and tries to get Newspaper Lady fired."

"Didn't you read her the lovely thank you note? I can't believe someone would get a sympathy card, without even needing sympathy, and automatically assume it was written for her! But it's not like she was just a common thief, thinking, perhaps, that she'd found a birthday card that might have money in it. She didn't throw it away and pretend she never saw it. She took the time to write a thank you note!"

"Well, I'm thinking about putting a card in the box tomorrow telling her, 'Freda doesn't live here. I don't know who Freda is, or what this card is all about.'"

"Oh, no! Then Newspaper Lady will know she messed up. She will be embarrassed. What if she feels bad and takes an overdose of something?"

"The card DID have my name on it. And she took it. I guess it's possible that she thinks I've forgotten her name is Newspaper Lady, and that I think it's my name."

"I don't know how you get yourself into these predicaments. Maybe it WASN'T a dog that unwrapped your foil cinnamon roll and took one bite and wrapped it back up. Maybe it was Newspaper Lady. She has opposable thumbs, you know. And your card."

"I'm going to make a copy of this thank you card and give it to Freda."

"I'd really like to know what your sympathy card said."

"Me too."

Mom and Freda. Lucy and Ethel. Classic comedy duos.